


invisible string

by cassielassie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, Meet-Cute, Past Character Death, Reincarnation, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassielassie/pseuds/cassielassie
Summary: William makes a promise to always find Agnes' in every life.Time, curious time. Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string, tying you to me?for the TS8 at Midnight Challenge hosted by clevernotbrillant at HPFT forums.
Relationships: Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	invisible string

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RonsGirlFriday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonsGirlFriday/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Irrational](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21428551) by [RonsGirlFriday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonsGirlFriday/pseuds/RonsGirlFriday). 



**invisible string**

_by cassielassie / aurevoir_

_for the TS8 at Midnight Challenged hosted by clevernotbrillant_

dedicated to RonsGirlFriday (Mel) for always being there to read my Dramione, even when it's not her favorite ship <3

special thanks to Unwritten Curse (Gina) for letting me bounce scenes off of her and being my history buff for parts of this story.

_banner & picspam by me_

* * *

The light filters in through the window, colored by a light layer of dirt as if it's been some time since a proper cleaning, the dust motes floating around the enormous chamber. One of the stone walls is lined with shelves, ladened with books and baubles from a life well lived. A bundle of flowers sit on a desk in the antechamber of the room, the flowers drooping slowly and littering their pink petals across the surface. 

Beyond the shut doors, the adult children huddle together, their own spouses holding them tight as they wait in anticipation, serving people bustling up and down the halls of the old fortress, trying their best to not dawdle and wait in anticipation.

Because within the room, the air is tense as everyone waits for the proverbial shoe to drop. A few people shuffle around the edge of the chamber, unable to keep still, and whisper to each other behind their hands and their voices echoing off the stone walls.

 _“It shouldn’t be long now._ ”

“ _I can’t believe she’s held on this long._ ”

But William hears none of that, seated on the edge of the bed and clasping Agnes’ hand in his tightly. Her grey hair still shimmers in the light, and he remembers how rich her hair looked in their youth and how he wanted to do nothing more than to rip out the baubles that had held her hair up and run his fingers through it, to see if it really felt as soft as it looked - so many years ago. And though he can’t see her eyes, he remembers how warm her eyes were when she would look at him in mirth and how flat they would be when she was upset or disappointed. The joy from their children’s lives, from the first time they held their wands to when they left the house over time. 

He reaches a hand out and strokes it down the side of her face, his fingers running lightly over the wrinkles that now adorn her face and she sighs softly, the sound barely audible in the room before a cough wracks her body and new blood spots appear on the blanket draped over her frail body.

“Oh, William,” her voice is feeble but she brings a shaking hand up to cover his, her lids fluttering open, though the dull brown is barely focused on him.

“Do you quite know, the first time I saw you,” his thumb wipes away a few tears that are leaking from the corner of her eye. “I thought my father had either made the best or worst decision for my life. You had the kindest eyes, but were nothing but spitfire.”

Her eyelids slip close again and a soft small stretches across Agnes’ face, her lower lip cracking from the stretch. “And I thought my father,” she pauses to cough and William scoots closer to the head of the bed to better hear her, “had signed me off to the devil with that hair.” 

William chuckles and brings his other hand across to run it through her hair where it’s splayed on the pillow. A breath rattles through Agnes’ lips softly and he brings the hand resting on his up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand.

“ _Mon amour_ ,” his breath ghosts across the back of her hand, “there’s no need to keep fighting. It hurts me to see you in such pain.”

Agnes nodded softly as he lays her hand back down on top of the blanket. 

“My wand,” she pauses and licks a few drops of blood from her lips. “I would like … to be holding my wand.”

William turns to the room behind him, eyes settling on one of the men who stood at attention. “Please retrieve Agnes’ wand, with haste.” 

The man nods, and turns out of the room quickly, leaving William to turn back to Agnes and stroke the side of her face again. “Soon, you will have your wand soon.”

A rattling breath passes Agnes’ lips again and one of William’s hands knots in the material at his side, his heart clutching knowing that soon they will not be together anymore. 

For many moments, neither say anything and William clings to her hand, rubbing soothing circles across the back though her fingers are barely grasping his anymore. 

“A promise,” Agnes’ brown eyes are suddenly bearing down on his own brown eyes with an intensity that William hasn’t seen in some time. “I need you to make me a promise.” 

Agnes starts coughing again, and William holds the kerchief to her mouth softly and wipes her lips before she stares at him again, fingers squeezing his own lightly. 

“What promise?”

A noise behind him catches his attention and William turns, accepting Agnes’ wand with a nod of his head before he turns back to his wife. He tucks the wand under her hand on the covers, wrapping his larger freckled hand around hers. 

“Promise that you’ll always,” she pauses for a second, her fingers tightening around her wand as she sighs. “You’ll always find me.”

William smiles, the dimple in his cheek prominent as he looked down into the brown eyes blazing into his own. 

“I promise to always find you every life, _mon amour_.” 

Agnes’ lips stretch into a thin smile again, as her eyes slide close and she nods briefly before another sigh leaves her body. 

And a second later, so does her spirit. 

——

Richard lounges at the table, his younger siblings running around. “Father, I don’t understand why -”

“You are 22 years old, Richard. You will do your duty. Go change, they will be here soon. We’re already giving you both the chance to meet before the wedding.”

Richard holds his father’s eyes before letting out a sigh and stepping over Hugo, who was crawling under the chair he had been in. As he steps into the room he shares with his siblings, he frowns around the cramped space. 

At least the upside to the marriage is that he’ll be moving out of the immediate housing with his siblings and into the secondary cottage on their land.

Changing quickly, he hears the sound of horses outside the front door and the mutters from Andrew as he likely takes the horses to be housed in the barn. He runs his fingers through his hair, wishing he had taken that bath his mother offered last night. 

“Richard!” His mother’s voice rings through the cottage and he steps out of the room, seeing her peering in from the door leading to the small dining hall. “Come, come. We’re all waiting on you.” 

He steps in line behind his mother, following her into the room where a number of people are seated at one end of the table - his father and sister, just a few years younger, and another older couple. 

And she - well, she is there too. She hasn’t looked up from the table as of yet, and her hair is pinned at the nape of her neck, but something about her seems familiar. 

“This is Richard,” his father stands as he approaches, as does everyone else at the table, and his sister’s hand rests briefly on his elbow before dropping as he steps around his father’s position at the head of the table to face the three unfamiliar faces. 

“Richard, this is Robert and Beatrice.” Richard claspes Robert’s hand before taking Beatrice’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

Robert places a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze and prompting her to look up. Her brown eyes are fierce as they lock on Richard’s and she lifts her chin ever so slightly. 

“Richard, this is Emma.” 

Richard holds his hand out and after a second, Emma places her hand in his and he bows over her hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand before stepping back. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Emma.” 

A shiver traces down Richard’s spine at the use of her name, and he hopes she doesn’t notice as her eyes look him over in the moment. Her chin drops infinitamesly and her eyes seem to shine more. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” 

Her voice is soft and Richard feels one side of his mouth turn up. His father clears his throat and he jumps forward, hastily pulling out the chair Emma had been in moments before. Her hand brushes against his own lightly and heat blasts through his body as he pushes the chair in, everyone else sitting with quiet murmurs around the table. 

Richard walks back around the table and takes his own seat as the servants bring out the meal, though he barely processes the words that are being said as he stares at his future wife. How she’s gentle with the servants as they serve her, always with a kind word to them as they do so. The soft looks she gives her mother and how she laughs at her father. 

How she laughs at a story his sister tells about the time he fell down into the creekbed, her eyes sparkling with mirth. At the end of the meal, his father talks about taking Robert to see some of the cattle on the property and he stands from his seat, bowing slightly at his father’s startled gaze. 

“Father, Robert - I thought perhaps Margaret and I could show Emma around the property and to the cottage.” 

His father shrugs and motions a hand to Robert. Richard watches as Beatrice gives her husband’s hand a squeeze, smiling at her daughter, before Robert looks to him. 

“I see no reason why not, with your sister there.” 

Richard hastily pulls his sister’s chair out and grips her hand as she steps out before stepping around the table and doing the same for Emma, her fingers giving his own a light squeeze before she lets go. Margaret grasps Emma’s arm and leads her out of the dining room, Richard following behind and imagining taking the pins in Emma’s hair out and running his fingers through it. 

Before long, Margaret drops back and leaves Emma on Richard’s arm, the former looking around the property in interest while the latter looks down at her, watching her facial expressions. 

“This property is gorgeous,” Emma’s eyes turn to look up at him, their brown color reminding him of the chocolate his father bought for Christmas one year. 

“It’s been in the family for some time.” Richard’s voice is quiet and Emma smiles up at him. “I hope - I know that we’ve only just met -” 

Richard trails off as Emma turns her eyes to look back at him. “Your father treats your mother well.” 

His brow raises at that and Emma releases a sigh, her fingers squeezing his arm as well. “My biggest fear in all of this - in marrying someone in a village I didn’t know - was that it would be to a family that wasn’t as kind as my own. I … I saw the things that happened to some of my friends.”

Richard frowns at the ground as they walk, gathering his thoughts and letting Emma look at the surroundings. After a time he looks up to see the cottage they will call home in front of them. He turns to look at Emma, and sees that Margaret has taken a seat on the wall a ways back to give them privacy without it being inappropriate. 

“I should hope that should I ever do something untowards, you would tell me.” His voice is soft, but Emma’s eyes turn up to them. “I - I’m not sure what it is, but I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life already.” 

Emma smiles at him lightly, looking back up at the cottage. 

“I do as well - but at least we will have this whole life to know one another.” 

Only neither of them, nor their child, survive the blue sickness when it sweeps through the village merely three years later. 

—— 

Nicolas shifts on his feet, looking absently out on the street where people bustle up and down, the horse-drawn carts flicking mud up occasionally where the road has chipped away from time. A few streets away, he can hear the yells of people as a ship of some sort comes down the Thames, either from the shoreline or individuals on the ship. 

Edward shifts across from him and Nicolas looks over, seeing Edward has taken his helmet off running his fingers through his black hair, leaving it unruly around his face. His green eyes look back at Nicolas and he raises his brow. 

“It’s bloody hot.” 

Nicolas shrugs, and looks forward. “It always is in the summer.” 

“Are you not miserable right now?” Edward’s voice is boisterous, and Nicolas looks back over at him with a frown. 

“Our job is to be in uniform and ready.” 

Edward snorts, but puts the helmet back on his head. “You really are a swot. Surprised you didn’t manage to be some right university cunt.” 

“Couldn’t afford it,” he mumbles, but Edward gives no sign of hearing him and Nicolas sighs internally. 

Because he begged his parents to send him off to university. But someone had to help feed his siblings and, with one brother crippled from serving in the army, they couldn’t afford to not have him bringing in an income as well. 

The sun slowly moves overhead and Nicolas shifts again as sweat beads on his back. Out of the crowd, he sees Katherine make her way up a few steps, clutching the arm of someone who has her cloak pulled up. 

“Wotcher, Katherine.” Edward’s voice breaks the silence and Katherine smiles at Edward. “Never seen you at this door before.” 

“Quiet your voice, you’ll disturb the Master.” Katherine’s voice is stern, but her eyes kind as she turns them from Edward to Nicolas. “I came to introduce you to the new maid that’ll be helping out the staff - and if either of you give her any issues, you know I’ll personally wallop you.”

The girl in question pulls back her cloak and Nicolas finds his breath caught in his throat. Her hair is mostly loose, though some of it has been gathered at the back of her head. It curls lightly in the humidity and he finds himself wanting to run his fingers through to see if the curls spring back into place. 

Her face is kind, though her eyes are hesitant as she looks between him and Edward. Nicolas hears Edward pull his helmet off and the girl’s eyes settle on him finally, giving Nicolas a chance to catch his breath. 

“Edward, milady. What should we call you?” 

The sound of his voice makes Nicolas close his eyes and huff a soft sigh, though he opens them when he hears a covered laugh in front of him, and sees that she has turned her eyes from him quickly and back to Edward, placing her hand into Edward’s waiting hand and Nicolas resists the urge to vomit as Edward presses a kiss to the back of her hand. 

“Just Joan.” 

Her voice is soft and melodic and Nicolas finds himself taking his own helmet off slowly, knowing his red hair is likely sticking up every direction after being under the helmet for hours. 

“Nicolas.” 

Her eyes turn to him again - and he notes that they’re the same color as freshly tilled soil, the warmth radiating to him and filling his entire body with warmth. He takes the hand that she holds out and places a light kiss against her knuckles before standing back up. 

He turns to see Katherine giving him a knowing look and Edward is distracted by a commotion down the street. 

“Well, we best get to work inside. Come, Joan, we’ll take the servants’ entrance in the back.” 

Nicolas watches the two of them take the steps back down and walk around the side of the house, before turning back and seeing Edward giving him a look. 

“What’s with the look on your face?”

Nicolas shakes his head and says nothing, putting his helmet back on and staring out at the street as Edward mutters, though the only things he hears are “ _pretentious swot_.” 

The next few hours pass in a blur and before Nicolas knows it, William and John are approaching them and telling them it’s shift change. Edward bounds off around the house and Nicolas follows slower, content to let Edward clang through the guardhouse before he goes in himself. By the time Nicolas makes it to the guardhouse, he can already hear Edward in the bathing room and he strips out of his gear slowly, making sure to polish the dirt out that has made its way in the crevices during the day, a frown marring his face as he looks at the gear that Edward has left on the floor. 

Edward comes out of the bathing room and quickly pulls on clothes, dropping his gear onto the rack by his bed. “A group of us are going to go eat at _The White Rabbit_ \- you joining?”

Nicolas shakes his head and stands from the bed, gathering his own things. “No, I think I’ll eat in the kitchens. I need to send money to my parents for Henry’s school.” Nicolas looks up to ask Edward a question, but sees that he’s already left, the door swinging - probably didn’t really wait for him to say no.

Not much later, Nicolas finds himself walking into the kitchen, taking a deep inhale of the scents lingering. Isabel bustles around the corner and smiles on seeing him, planting her hands around her head as she leaves a kiss on his forehead. 

“Ah, precious Nicolas. You should get out more and meet yourself a nice girl.” 

Nicolas smiles at her as she steps back and turns, already preparing him a bowl. “But then when would I get to enjoy your cooking, Isabel?” 

Isabel scoffs but puts the bowl in his hand with a piece of bread. She pats his shoulder fondly and he makes his way over to the servant’s table, taking a seat and pulling his book from his pocket as he takes a seat. He finishes the bowl and is nibbling on the bread, soaking up the remnants of the soup when someone slides into the seat across from him. Nicolas looks up, making his mouth to apologize he was just leaving but the words die on his tongue as he sees Joan sitting there, her head cocked to the side as she considers him. 

“How - ah - how’s your first day?” He fumbles with the book on the table and it falls to the ground. With a grimace, Nicolas leans over to pick it up, only to find that Joan has darted to pick it up quicker and is now sitting back at the table, looking at the cover. 

“Aesop’s Fables?” 

Nicolas flushes and grabs the book back from her, shoving it into a pocket on his shirt. “Just … passing the time.” 

She nods and hums before pulling her own bowl towards her. “Of course, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

He stares at Joan, unsure what to make of the feeling that’s coursing through his veins. Eventually, she looks back up at him and narrows her eyes at him. 

“I - just, have you read them?” 

Joan pauses with her spoon halfway back to her mouth before she drops it back to her bowl. 

“Well, of course.” She places her hands on the table and leans forward towards him like she has a secret. “The Bible is all good and well, but a bit of people going fanatical about it, isn't it?” 

Nicolas can’t help the smile that comes across his face and the next hour conversation is one of the most stimulating he’s ever had. And when she gets up to leave and go back to her work, he stands and walks with her back to the door to the rest of the home. They pause and she looks up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. 

“Can I speak to you again?” 

Joan smiles at him, a flush rising on her cheeks. “We’re not nobility, y’know. You don’t have to ask to see me again.” 

Nicolas shrugs, but smiles back at her. “It seems polite to give you the chance to say no, since you technically are above me.”

“Well, Nicolas. You’ll find that I don’t have much to offer, and certainly no dowry or family to speak of - just the kindness of Katherine.” She clears her throat and looks at the ground, shuffling her toe. “But I very much would like to see and speak to you again.”

Nicolas grins and chances a squeeze to her hand before taking his leave, his hand flexing as he crosses the space and he hopes that he never loses the excitement that her touch gives him. 

And at their wedding the following year, he looks forward to the lifetime of conversations and touches she’ll give him.

—— 

Thomas pulls at the lapels of his coat, sighing as he looks out at the people below. He still can’t believe that his mother insisted he come to this - he is fresh out of Ilvermorny and with Rappaport’s Law floating around MACUSA after her absolute buffoon of a daughter did what she did, it‘s very nearly dangerous for him to be socializing with these no-majs. 

The Rappaport Law is dangerous, his father says. Especially with families so divided and mixed as they have been - they are going to have grandfather in no-majs or risk breaking up families. And the future impact of such a law? His father sees the magical community losing out on great magical talent limiting their blood pool so severely - only introducing new blood if an American wizard married into a European or other family, or when no-maj’s gave birth to magical children. 

Given, Thomas thinks his father is a bit partial to this because his mother is a no-maj. 

And his father managed to marry in the upper echelons of American society before he knew that was what he was doing. So they constantly find themselves attending family events with no-majs, Thomas and his siblings all being dragged along. And never able to talk about the rest of their lives. 

Thomas pats his jacket, feeling the outline of his wand inside and smiles as his brother goes on about something beside him. While Thomas has finished with school, his brother has just finished his first year, going on about all the things he’s excited to learn, and Thomas catches the tail-end of the conversation. “Hopefully Gen will be sorted as a Horned Serpent next year, just like all of you were. After all, there is a reputation to maintain.” 

“And if Genevieve is sorted into another house, it won’t matter, Jacob.” Thomas’ voice is quiet, mindful of those around him as Jacob scowls up at him. 

Thomas’ eyes pause their perusal of the room below before he can hear what Jacob is about to say, the woman whose steps make it seem as if she floats across the surface, with two people who must be her parents on either side of her. Her brown hair is pinned up artfully, carefully selected ringlets loose around her face and bouncing as she walks. Her face open and kind, eyes wide as she takes in the decorations around her. 

Before Thomas can think about it, he turns from his place on the balcony and races down the stairs. Coming to a stop at his mother’s side, he clears his throat softly and keeps his eyes ahead as his mother looks at him. 

“Yes?”

“Who is that?” His voice is equally soft as his mother’s, though his eyes have yet to leave the young woman.

“I believe that’s the new Carter family that relocated from Maryland recently.”

Thomas’ eyes remain glued to the Carter family, watching as they make their way to where his own family stood to greet guests. 

“You’ve been introduced?” 

Thomas finally turns to look down at his mother who has one of her eyebrows raised at him. 

“I have not, but my sister has been.” 

Thomas says nothing, but looks to the ground as he gathers his thoughts. Because seeing her - seeing her has felt like coming home again, but he knows he’s never met her. She isn’t from Ilvermorny. His family has no business in Maryland that would have introduced them before. 

But when he first looked at her… there was something. 

At last, the Carter’s came to a stop in front of them and Thomas eyes the parents before his eyes center on the girl, only to find that her own brown eyes are staring at him - with what seems like a similar spark of recognition. 

“And this is our daughter, Abigail.” Her eyes start from his and look towards his aunt as she drops a curtsy and Thomas feels fluttering in his stomach. 

His aunt nods demurely, introducing her children that stand to her right before turning to him and his mother. “And this is my sister, Elizabeth, and her third eldest son, Thomas.”

Thomas shakes hands with the older gentleman - Phillip he thinks - and takes the hand of the older woman - Emilia - with a soft murmur before he turns to Abigail. With a deep bow, he takes her hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of her hand. 

When he looks up, her cheeks are flushed, but her eyes are trained solely on him. “Perhaps Abigail will save a dance for me.” His voice is soft, and slightly husky, but Thomas does not note the look his mother is given him. 

“I would be glad to do so on the next set,” her voice is soft and Thomas finds himself smiling at her. Their parents exchange words and Thomas attempts to listen to the conversation, but finds himself anxiously tracking the current set and counting down the minutes until he can dance with Abigail. 

At long last, the current set ends and he holds his hand out for Abigail, whose skin is the softest thing Thomas thinks he’s ever felt before. He feels his mother’s eyes on the back of his head as he leads Abigail to the floor, absently catching some comment Emilia makes to his mother about their families becoming better acquainted soon. 

“I think my mother might scare your mother off.” Abigail’s voice is soft and Thomas looks down, noting how she barely comes to his shoulder. 

“I think there are many things about my mother’s countenance that would surprise people.” Thomas murmurs, bracing as Abigail turns to look at him on the dance floor. 

What he does not expect to brace for is how her warm eyes look like they can see into his very soul and know everything there is to know about him. 

“I don’t doubt that.” 

For the next several hours, Thomas and Abigail dance almost every song together. The next several days see Thomas in deep conversations with his father about the progressing Rappaport Law within MACUSA. Subsequent conversations between his father and Abigail’s father. 

And through it all - Thomas confesses to Abigail about Ilvermorny and shows her magic, and the joy that lights her eye seeing the magic leaves Thomas feeling so entirely satiated, that he does not know how he existed before Abigail. 

Four months later, and two days prior to the finalization of Rappaport’s Law, Thomas and Abigail are wed in a private family ceremony. 

——

Frank’s hand taps a rhythm out absently on the edge of the chair as he waits for the nurse to come by and discharge him. People bustle up and down the hallway nearby, many of them not speaking English. But everything is so new and exciting. 

The day he turned 18, he signed himself up for the US Army. Despite his father telling him he should just wait and see if he would be drafted, he _knew_ that he had to protect the ideals that his country stood for. At least, that’s what he told himself.

What he didn’t realize was that it meant several weeks in bootcamp first and that even once he was shipped abroad, he would have a few weeks before he really got to go to where the action was. Which is how he’s found himself in the middle of Paris for the past few weeks, biding his time before shipping out to the front line. 

He still isn’t sure why they all have to undergo extra medical screening before being sent out. William made reference to some cold going around, and maybe they’re screening for that. 

A nurse stops in front of him and Frank pulls himself out of his thoughts, his mouth opens and then closes as he takes a look at the nurse. 

Her brown hair is braided hastily down her back, pieces already falling out around her ears as if she keeps trying to run her hands through it in agitation. Her white uniform is crisp and pristine, although he can see droplets of blood on her sleeve. Her legs are shapely and he wonders what it would be like to run his hand up her calf lightly. She’s wearing practical shoes, which he realizes are tapping an impatient rhythm and when he pulls his eyes back to hers, he realizes that she’s staring at him and tapping the pen against the edge of the clipboard in her hands. 

“You Americans ‘re very bold.” 

Her accent is clipped and Frank feels a flush work its way up his neck as he opens and closes his mouth a few times. 

“I - that’s not - I was -” Frank trails off, certain that his face must match his hair by this point. The nurse in front of him gives a soft laugh before she smiles at him, and something like butterflies take off in his stomach. 

“It’s okay,” she looks back down at the chart in her hands. “Well, Frank - your blood came back clear and there seems to be, ah” she pauses for a second searching for the word, “there seems to be no affiliation.” 

Frank stares at her blankly as she jots a few notes down on the clipboard. She sets the clipboard to the table beside him. She pulls a thermometer out of her pocket before motioning at him and looking back up.

“Well, take off your shirt.”

Frank does nothing but stare at her, her brown eyes seeming to brighten at his indecision. He can’t explain the feeling in his gut, but he knows that there’s something about this girl that feels like a memory. “Today would be nice.”

“I - well - don’t I get to know your name before I start taking my clothes off?” 

She hums slightly before nodding her head. “You may call me Marie.” 

“Right. Marie.” Frank looks down at his hands, fingers trembling slightly, as he unbuttons his shirt, pulling it off and leaving his undershirt on. Her fingers are warm as they probe his arm upward, tucking the thermometer under his arm before pushing his arm back down. 

“Five minutes.” 

Neither of them say anything for a minute, but Frank finds himself studying Marie as she picks the clipboard back up and flips through the pages - whether she’s actually reading anything or trying to keep herself busy as he stares at her … with a shake of his head, Frank looks back at his hands. 

“How long have you been doing this?”

Marie looks up at his question and tilts her head to the side a bit. “Only a few months - technically, I will attend school after the war with this practical experience to be a nurse. I’m just an assistant for now.” 

“Like an apprenticeship?” 

She hums lightly but nods her head. “Of sorts - I would have started my actual classes last year, but the war has sort of put a pause on things.”

“So you’re like 19?” 

“Yes. And you - you’ve only been 18 for a few months, I see. Why are you here?” 

Frank shrugs and rubs the back of his neck absently. “My dad thinks I’m crazy.”

“I would tend to agree with your father.”

Marie’s face is neutral as she stares back at Frank, and he finds himself wishing he could tuck the loose hair back into her braid. 

“Well, I - I wanted to serve -” Marie raises her eyebrows at him and he sighs. “Fine. I wasn’t great at school, I have my brothers' reputations to live up to. It seemed the easiest way to not be a disappointment.” 

A look of understanding seems to flash across Marie’s face and she gives him a soft smile. “I see.” She looks up to the clock and motions for him to raise his arm before pulling out the thermometer and making a note on the chart sitting on the table. “But - it seems you are cleared to go.” 

Frank stands and pulls his shirt back on, buttoning up the buttons. As she starts to leave he reaches and grabs her elbow to stop her, dropping it as another flush works its way up his neck as she looks back at him with a question in her eye. 

“I - would you want to have dinner tonight?” 

Marie smiles back at him, her own cheeks now tinged pink. “I - I have plans with my sister. But I - would you be able to tomorrow?” 

“We take off tomorrow assuming we get our medical clearance."

“ _Ahh_ ,” her voice is soft as she looks down at the chart in her hands. Seeming to make a decision, she turns and sets the chart down, pulling open a drawer on the table and pulling out a loose sheet of paper. She scribbles hastily on it before giving him the piece of paper. “Write me - I - I can be, ah, you can send me letters.”

Frank takes the paper with a smile, folding it and putting it in the front pocket of his shirt. “We should stop in Paris on the way back.”

“Then tell me when you come back. We can get dinner then.” 

Marie smiles at him and Frank feels his heart soar - and he knows there’s something special there. The months pass as they trade secrets and he knows that he has to find a way to take this girl back home with him.

Except his return convoy never makes it back to Paris and Marie falls victim to the Spanish Influenza months later. 

——

Percy runs a hand through his hair absently, looking at the papers in his hands. Robbie shifts on his feet in front of him, and Percy frowns. 

“You’re sure that’s what they told you?” 

“I - yes. They said that it had to go through Blakely -”

Percy sighs and Robbie shifts on his feet again as his hands flutter back down to his side. “That’s not how this has worked for 15 years,” Percy’s voice has an edge to it and he sees Robbie flinch slightly, but he just frowns at the paper in front of him. “They don’t get to just change things without sending us the appropriate memorandums notifying us.” 

“I can appeal through the system.”

“No, Robbie, no, because Blevins can’t seem to do anything right,” Percy gathers several of the papers in front of him and pushes his glasses up his nose, turning on at a quick pace to head to the office next door, “now I’m the one who has to go sort it all out with the legal staff – ”

Before Percy can finish his statement, a woman skitters to a stop outside the door right in front of him, a startled “ _Oh!”_ leaving her lips.

Her hands flutter at her side as he looks down at her, noting that she barely seems to come to his shoulder. 

“I – I’m so sorry,” she manages and Percy finds himself frowning slightly, because there’s just something about her that seems familiar.

“No, pardon me,” he says stiffly. Percy moves to take a step past her, but her voice interrupts his swirling thoughts about how soft her hair looked. 

“I’m sorry to delay you, but could you tell me where Magical Equipment Control is?”

Percy pauses and flexes his fingers on the papers in his hand before turning back to look at her, noticing that she’s wearing muggle clothes - a simple blouse tucked into a tasteful skirt that ends just above her knees, no crimson robes visible. 

“New, are you?”

“Well, yes, I’ve been transferred…”

Percy points down the corridor. “Next door on the right, just before the lifts.” 

“Thank you,” her voice is soft and Percy nods at her, turns on his heel, and disappears into the Administrative Offices next door with a quick step. 

Percy completes the business with Blevins and quickly makes his way back to his desk, where he tries to focus on the work that is sitting in front of him, but he finds his thoughts straying back to the woman he ran into in the hallway. 

How her hair framed her soft face and how open she seemed, as he snipped at her about where to find the office. Percy groans internally, just imagining his brothers teasing him if they found out he was distracted by someone he spoke to for exactly three minutes. 

At lunch, he focuses on the crossword puzzle at his desk, tapping his quill and puzzling his way through the day’s clues, washing away his thoughts from the morning. After finishing his lunch, Percy attacks his work with a new vengeance, before hearing the shuffling of feet at the doorway to the _Improper Use of Magic_ office. Looking up, his heart stutters a bit in his chest as he sees the woman from this morning, standing in the door with a pile of papers in her hand and staring at him. He raises one eyebrow at her and she takes a few steps forward. 

“Hello,” she flashes a nervous smile as she approaches. “My name’s Audrey…Audrey Greene. I’m – well, I’m sure you remember, I’m new in Magical Equipment Control…”

“I remember,” Percy’s tone is dry, and he mentally whacks himself for not using a nicer tone. 

He takes a minute to study her, noting that the crimson of the robes she’s wearing now brings out faint red tones in her hair, though both her hair and eyes are a rich brown. Just as he noticed her hair looked soft earlier, her eyes are warm as they study him in turn. 

In an effort to distract her before she realizes he’s staring at her, Percy grabs two thick files from the corner of his desk and drops them on the top of the stack Audrey is currently holding. 

“Those go to your office,” he says. “And would you please tell Dibble that he really must talk to Harmon Finch and tell him, for the last time, that wands do not fall under the purview of this office? They’re clearly defined as magical equipment, and Finch won’t seem to listen to me, no matter how many times I remind him, so tell Dibble it’s out of my hands.” 

Percy realizes he’s rattling out this information lightning fast, but his blood is pulsing through his body and he’s not sure what to do with the butterflies that are taking flight in his stomach. Audrey nods slowly at him, her hands tugging at the files at the bottom of her stack and Percy realizes that she was bringing those files for _him,_ moments before all the parchment is littered across the floor. 

“Oh, damn,” she whispers, a gentle flush gathering in her cheeks and Percy can’t help but think it’s cute. “I’m so sorry, I’ll get -”

Percy shakes his head and sighs. “Just – it’s fine, I’ve got it. Accio 3-8-5-8-2 and 3-8-7-4-0.” His voice comes across more intensely than he intends it to, but he focuses on the files now in his outstretched hand before handing them to Audrey, trying to clear any of his thoughts from his face. 

“These are for your office,” he repeats, trying to ignore the impulse that is telling him he knows her and for some reason, that he should just run his hand down her cheek like he has a thousand times before - 

Percy mentally shakes his head and scans the remaining files on the floor before waving his wand at the parchment, leaving it to sort into piles. He sighs again and meets Audrey’s eyes. 

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” her voice is soft and Percy nods. 

“All right. Thanks.” He pushes his glasses up his nose and keeps his eyes on his papers, absently picking up his quill, though he can’t help but look up as she turns, and notice the practical little heels she’s wearing, with a small bow, and what he can see of her calves as she walks out. 

Leaning back in chair, barely registering Robbie prattling on about something, Percy can’t help but feel like he’s been here before - and that his life will never be the same.

* * *

**Author's Note:** RIGHT SO :) Obligatory disclaimer that the basis for the final scene is written by RonsGirlFriday and the story idea belongs to her, but I have permission to use it it here (just didn't want to spoil initially). if you want to learn more about Percy and Audrey's story and you haven't already read @RonsGirlFriday story Irrational [+here,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21428551/chapters/51057454) be sure to give it a read!


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